Memories of Home
by Veilrony
Summary: Nearly every night, Bertolt Hoover lies awake, remembering how much harm he has caused the people of the Walls. He remembers his own past, and the trauma that brought him to his current position. With all of the horrors of his life ever-fresh in his mind, he has one question for the world: Why?


Bertolt's bunk was cold. When he left Marley, he at least expected the walls to have indoor heating systems, or at least to be at low-altitude areas to cope. Both assumptions were wrong, as he was stuck underneath thin blankets with a harsh autumn draft blowing through cracks in his cabin. He shivered.

This had been the constant struggle every night for the past four years. At least the training camp had fireplaces inside the barracks. Here in Trost, the only warmth was the heat from the breath of those around him.

He rolled into his blankets, but his toes stuck out as soon as the blanket tightened over his form. Marley was south by enough hundreds of kilometres that it never got to snow. Here, Bertolt was just waiting for it.

He missed home. He wanted to go back to his parents, the faceless figures he never knew. He remembered running up to them, getting pushed away. His armband was removed. His home was no longer warm and caring, no matter how distant his parents were, but instead cold and unforgiving cement buildings where he and hundreds of other children were tested.

He met Reiner there, though, a kid from a different Ghetto that he never would have met if his parents hadn't signed him up for the military. Reiner at least understood what was going on, and led him and his sister, Annie, through those gruelling five years. The scars on Bertolt's back still remained, but the difference between him and Reiner was that Reiner displayed them proudly. Of course, he never told the truth as to how he got them. That would jeopardize the mission.

The mission. Bertolt shut his eyes tightly, remembering when at just ten years old, he had killed a quarter of the Eldians within the Walls. It felt like a betrayal, but instead of stabbing a 'friend,' he was stabbing himself. He shook at the thought. If he could have, if he wasn't trained for five years, would he have not done it? Would he have jumped in front of that titan that killed his friend, with the shark's face and lemur's body? He doubted it. He would've been too afraid to say no.  
That's what he always was, right? The tall kid, the "brawn", the one who didn't talk much unless it was a "yes, sir," or a "no, Ma'am." He wished that he could say anything else, he really did. It just… wasn't going to happen.

The memories would always stop him. For the first year of training, the children who went through the program were taught hand-to-hand combat. Bertolt remembered being too slow to do anything, so his battle partners would always beat him silly before going on to find a better opponent. Year two was when Bertolt tried to shut his eyes tight, to push those horrid, horrid memories to the back of his mind. He felt a tear streak down his face with the phantom pain of a knife at the back of his neck, twisting, prying, by older men. The crack of a whip flashed through his mind, and he could imagine the searing pain all over again. He whimpered at the thought, curling up into a ball. Please no, please no. He wasn't the Armoured. He wasn't the Beast. He wasn't the Attack. What were they? Why were those names being thrown around so much?

He remembered when four children were brought up in front of the Eldian Children. He was in front, despite being able to see over all the other children. He, Reiner, a blonde girl, Annie, and that blonde kid — why couldn't Bertolt remember his name — were picked out. They were the strongest, the general pointed out. Then more soldiers came, tying up the four unnamed children, who would forever remain unnamed. Bertl didn't want to think anymore. He remembered his face being pushed into the brown rocks of the courtyard. He was forced to see Reiner try and struggle against the soldiers restraining him. Bertl clenched his fists. But what did a ten-year-old have on a trained soldier? Nearly all of Reiner's teeth were knocked out and a soldier broke one of his arms the more he tried to struggle. Bertolt didn't remember his own injuries.

There was a sharp, phantom pain in his neck as Bertolt remembered the serum. He wanted to scream, then his memories blanked. They returned when he was thrown off of the wall with Reiner, Bertolt, Annie, and another child named Marcel. Then, the chaos started. Marcel got eaten by the shark-titan. Bertolt kicked the wall in, letting Reiner and Annie inside. Annie called titans into Shiganshina and Reiner broke the Outer Wall, and just like that, he'd killed thousands upon thousands of humans. How could he have done that to his fellow Eldians? Why would he do it? Was it his fear of the word no? Thousands dead at his hands. He was ten. He shouldn't have been entrusted with that power, even if Bertolt still used it. He wanted to go home. He missed home. Not the home where he was forced through hours of torture to see which child turned into a titan. He didn't want to feel the jagged marks of knives cutting at his ears, a whip on his back. He wanted to live in a Ghetto, if that's all he was doomed to. He would rather live alone and Reiner-less than in a world where he killed so many people, and he'd greatly affected the lives of everyone around him. He wanted to leave. He wanted to die, if that could have been any solace. Would it have been? He doubted it.

Bertolt was pulled from his thoughts at the feeling of a large hand grasping his shoulders. "Hey," he heard someone whisper. "Are you okay?" Bertolt twisted around, feeling his stinging eyes, to see the bulky silhouette of Reiner.

He shook his head. The image of a toothless and bloody and crying Reiner flashed into his mind. "Why are we doing this?" he asked sullenly. "Why can't we just live here, where we don't have to…" He sat up in his bed and wiped the wet away from the edges of his eyes. "We shouldn't have done what we did," he said. "Look at how we've wrecked these people's lives," he said.

"I have for the past four years, Bertolt," Reiner said. He sat down on the bed next to Bertolt, where he scooted his legs out of his way. "We have a mission," he whispered.

"But these are Eldians," he hissed. "Why are we betraying them like this? We should kill all the titans and let them live in peace!"

"No," Reiner said. Bertolt could see his hands run through his hair. "These Eldians are useless. They won't live another twenty years with all these Titans coming in. The best we can do is finish our mission."

"Why?" He felt his fists clenching. "What does killing everyone do for us?"

"Shush," Reiner said quietly. "Look. The important thing is that if we go back to Marley, with the mission done, then we can be hailed as heroes. Maybe Eldians won't be seen as so awful anymore. We'll be able to go out into the city, to ride in Zeppelins. Bertolt made contact with Reiner's steely eyes. "If we become respected by the military, our entire race can live a better life. Understood?" Reiner leaned into Bertolt, and he leaned back.

"I understand," he said quietly. "This is for the Eldians on Marley." He took a deep breath. "For our home,"

"Right," Reiner said. "Everything that happened to us is so we can save our families." Those were words that Bertolt heard every other night, but he still never managed to believe them. He sighed, leaning harder into Reiner's frame.

"For home," he repeated again.

Reiner nodded, displacing Bertolt's head. He pulled away just as Bertolt did, and met a solemn stare. He touched his forehead to Bertolt's, causing Bert's eyes to widen. He smiled lightly.

"When this is all over, we'll be free," he said. Reiner got up from the bed, the mattress creaking. He leaned in and kissed Bertolt's head. "Sleep tight, big guy," he said.  
Bertolt nodded as Reiner jumped up to the top bunk of his bed.

"You too, tough guy," Bertl whispered with still-shuddering breaths. "See you in the morning."


End file.
